


The Light in his Hands (Chrobin Week Day 01)

by LORBEERPRINZ



Series: Chrobin Week 2016 [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Chrobin Week, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 16:56:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8454418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LORBEERPRINZ/pseuds/LORBEERPRINZ
Summary: Finally, the day had come for Chrom to be a man, be able to prove himself and protect his country. (Chrobin Week Day 01: Coming of Age)





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is what I wrote for Tumblr's Chrobin Week 2016, first day. I didn't give any of them titles before, and to be honest I almost thought about not giving them titles here either, because I'm really bad at it. As for this particular piece, I think it was the second one I wrote for the week (I did them in random order) and it was actually very relaxing to write xD

This day didn’t really have any weather fitting the occasion, Chrom thought, but at the same time it hardly mattered, since the vast throne room of Ylisstol Castle had no means to see outside anyway. The only time today the prince had been able to take a look at the grey sky was through the windows of his bedroom, and even then he had had hardly any time to look closer with a swarm of attendants dancing around him, decking him in what was probably the most expensive attire he had worn yet.  
Only then had he realized it was raining in torrents, and probably wouldn’t stop for the rest of the day.  
But here in the throne room, rain did not matter at all, and Chrom kept observing the ceremony that unfolded before him. In his eyes, there way too much pomp and effort put into this festivity, which was not even public. The only people that got to experience this event saw parades and big gestures all the time, yet everyone was dressed in their best ceremony costumes, there were flowers, banners and music all over and more soldiers lined up left and right to the carpetway towards the throne than Chrom could count. Emmeryn wore a gown almost grander than back then during her coronation. Somehow, this put attention to the fact that she was a woman now and not a young girl anymore. Lissa, now old enough to realize what was going on today, was dressed for the occasion as well, with her favourite gold and white dress. It seemed like she was the only one with the luxury of choosing her gowns for this event on her own.

 

To Chrom’s left his newly acquired steward, Frederick, stood in what appeared to be the most perfect upward position Chrom had ever seen. But he could also see that assisting his Lord in an event of this size and importance for the first time made him a little nervous. The sweat on his forehead was definitely unusual for Frederick, even though he would surely not admit to it.  
The prince had to admit that he was a little nervous himself.

 

As the ceremony progressed, Yillistol’s High Priest cited a sermon, thanking Naga in great words for her blessings upon this country and the royal family.  
Emmeryn stood before the throne perfectly still, her hands folded in prayer.

 

After a minute or two of silence as the room was praying, the High Priest lifted his head again and inhaled deeply, signalizing for everyone to turn their attention back to the secular world. Chrom could smell the incense that had been burned in the throne room beforehand to cleanse it.  
The priest gestured wordlessly and two servants opened the giant doors that shut off the throne to the outside world, letting in another, smaller, procession. The men attending this one were even better dressed than the ones already present, and carried a variety of items with them.  
Most importantly was the one being shown off at the very front of the parade – the Falchion.

 

As the men marched in, music rose again and Chrom noticed he hadn’t actually been able to see where the musicians were. He was not meant to take his eyes off the procession by protocol, but still dared to sneak in a quick look around. Who, after all, should chastise him for this, at this moment? In the end, he figured the artists might be placed on the upper gallery, as he was unable to detect them anywhere around.  
Next to him, Frederick demonstratively cleared his throat just barely for him to hear.

 

The music stopped again as the servants, all of them members of the Church and especially selected for this very day, arrived in front of the throne. The High Priest let his hand rest upon the legendary sword just slightly, starting another prayer that was too silent for the rest of the attendees to hear.  
He stepped aside and let Emmeryn pick up Falchion in serene silence.

 

This was the signal.  
Chrom swallowed once and almost raised his hands to readjust his clothing, remembering right in time that this was not what he was supposed to be doing.  
He walked forward, all eyes resting on him. He was used to a lot of attention, but the situation eerily reminded him of Emmeryn’s coronation, where everyone not directly involved with the ceremony just gave her and her younger siblings these stares full of pity. Chrom had hated this.  
But now he was older and the stares were slightly different, but still not very pleasant. After all, they were all thinking the same thing: will it choose him or not? The air was so full of anticipation one could almost choke on it.

 

There was no need for Chrom to be nervous, he already knew the result.  
By tradition, he shouldn’t know yet whether he could wield the Falchion, his country’s holy blade, or not, but his father had made him try several years back. Not because he had been particularly interested in his son’s future, the teenage prince believed, but rather because he did not want to risk further embarrassment, as he himself had turned out to be unworthy of Falchion’s strength in the same ceremony in front of the whole court. He had had to keep this event a secret and after that, Falchion had returned to being just another expensive piece of national treasure for his child self for many years.  
Yet despite his knowledge that he would not embarrass himself, Chrom did not feel very comfortable with the atmosphere around him, the events of the past and the fate of his family hanging over him like a dark veil that clouded people’s reception of him and his sisters.  
If there was one good thing to come out of this ceremony, than it was that would hopefully grant him more possibilities to get out this place more often. Holding this ceremony already meant that he was considered old enough to take responsibility for his country’s fate.

 

Kneeling before Emmeryn felt weird, but it was part of the ceremony. The young Exalt unsheathed the sword and held it over Chrom’s head, speaking up for the first time today.

 

“Oh great Naga, sacrificing blood and fang for us, may your blessings fall upon this young one, so that he can follow the paths of the ones you guided before – the ancient hero, the Hero-King, the first Exalt – and be guided himself by your light and strength!”

 

Chrom looked up in order to receive the sword from Emmeryn and noticed what seemed to be a slight blue-ish glow coming from Falchion the moment he touched it, but no reaction came from anyone. It was the first time he saw something like this, and he had no idea whether this was supposed to be normal or not. This had never happened any time he had seen or interacted with this blade before. For another split second, his right arm felt like it was burning, but the sensation ebbed away before he could even react to it.  
But there was no time to ponder on all of this.

 

The prince stood up, turned to the room and immediately one of the attendants hurried to his feet, placing a wooden figure on a pedestal in front of him. Somehow ironic, Chrom thought, that this figure was supposed to be a stylized Earth Dragon.  
Everyone’s eyes were glued on him.

 

He took one deep breath, held the Falchion out for everyone to see, and then with one swift swing parted the figure in two. It all happened so fast it was almost impossible for the eyes to see, but the two halves of the statue sitting on each other just slightly tilted were enough of a proof that this sword was indeed sharp in Chrom’s hands.  
The room was dead silent at first, but then broke out in gasps of surprise and wonder, as if no one had expected him to manage cutting the wood, followed by a near deafening wave of applause.  
Lissa beamed and jumped, the soldiers and servants bowed before Chrom and when looking around, he found Emmeryn giving him a relieved smile.  
“Congratulations”, she said, but it was almost impossible for Chrom to hear over the applause and chants. One of the attendants came over and presented him a heavy cape of which Chrom knew he was meant to wear it once now, and again only later when he would get married. Technically, he would also wear it for his coronation and thereafter, but he was very sure this would never happen anyway.

 

As he was wrapped in the huge blue and golden cape, the prince could he could feel the last bits of nervousness the tight atmosphere had caused fall off him, and it was for once actually pleasant to bathe in the approval of the court around him. Suddenly, everyone’s admiration seemed so genuine.  
The two halves of the wooden figure were being held out for everyone to see as the music rose again to a triumphant verse of Ylisse’s national hymn and Chrom held the Falchion as high above his head as he could.

 

Finally, he thought with pride warming his heart, finally he was able to protect his country, his people and, most importantly, his family. Finally he was able to get out and do something.  
Finally they would see him as a man.

 

 

The prince of Ylisse picked up his combat training again almost as soon as the ceremony was over, amazed at his new sword’s power, a blade that would never become dull or rusty. He gathered everyone he could find, at the court or during his outings, and asked for their companionship in replacing Ylisse’s lost army in their task of protecting the people. He decided to call this group of devoted men and women “Shepherds”.  
On one of their first official outings, Lissa ran off to look for something Chrom didn’t quite catch. He was already worried a little when she didn’t come back after a few minutes, and just as he was about to go looking for her, she called him.  
He found her staring at the grass at her feet, or so he thought at first, but as he came closer, Chrom could make out a person lying there. A young woman in a heavy coat, motionless, but still breathing.

 

The two of them looked at each other, then at her when she finally appeared to wake up.  
Chrom held out a hand.

 

“You’ll catch a cold if you sleep in a place like this, you know?”


End file.
